


Lyrics

by paperstorm



Series: IRL [5]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael writes <i>Jet Black Heart</i> for Luke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Song

“Taste this,” Ashton says, holding out a spoon piled high with some kind of colorful mixture of food that smells vaguely like fish.  
   
Luke wrinkles his nose up and eyes it warily. “What is it?”  
   
“New recipe I tried.”  
   
“What  _is_  it?” Luke repeats, pointedly.  
   
“Salmon, and – ”  
   
“Nope,” Luke interrupts. He laughs at the exasperated look on Ashton’s face and then turns around toward the sound of the front door opening. Calum and Michael walk into the kitchen, looking exhausted, but happy. They’re writing right now, for their second album, all staying in a house together in LA and breaking into pairs every day to churn out as many songs as they can in a few months so they have a catalogue to choose from when it comes time to create a tracklist. Michael is always especially tired after a long day of writing. He wears his heart on his sleeve more than the rest of them do. He isn’t always so good at putting his emotions back away after he’s let them fall out.  
   
Luke goes to him, automatically pulling his boyfriend into a hug. He rubs Michael’s back, and feels Michael relax against him. “Hey.”  
   
“Hi, babe.” Michael kisses Luke’s cheek and hugs back, soft and warm in Luke’s arms.  
   
“Michael, come taste this,” Ashton says, trying someone else. He’s got a better bet there, and sure enough Michael lets go of Luke and wanders over to become Ashton’s willing Guinea Pig.  
   
“It tastes healthy,” is his response, words garbled over the mouthful of whatever Ashton fed him.  
   
“Okay, but does it taste  _bad_?”  
   
“That’s what I said. Let’s order a pizza.”  
   
“We can’t eat pizza for dinner every night, we’re all gonna get …” Ashton trails off mid-sentence, and Luke bites the inside of his cheek.  
   
“Fat?” Michael supplies dryly, not looking up from his phone, where he’s scrolling for the number to their favorite delivery place in the neighborhood. It’s been a touchy subject lately, after some rude online comments surfaced. Luke wishes they’d never seen any of it. Michael is trying his best to play it off like a joke, but Luke knows better. So does everyone else.  
   
“You’re not fat, Michael,” Ashton says quietly.  
   
Michael shrugs and doesn’t answer.  
   
Luke is about to agree, when Calum catches his eye. Luke takes in his friend’s dark eyes and drawn expression, and realizes it’s only Michael that looks exhausted but happy. Calum looks exhausted and  _worried_. Luke frowns at him, and Calum tosses his head, motioning for Luke to follow him back out of the room. Luke glances back at their bandmates, but Ashton is squishing Michael’s cheeks like someone’s Great-Aunt, telling him he’s beautiful, and Michael is rolling his eyes but smiling genuinely, so Luke feels okay leaving. He trails after Calum, out into the backyard where they won’t be overheard. Calum makes sure the door is latched behind them and then turns his apprehensive eyes to Luke’s again.  
   
“What?” Luke asks, instantly concerned. It’s rare to see Calum so serious. Since Luke’s known him, he almost always has a smile on his face.  
   
“We wrote a song today.”  
   
Luke frowns. That’s what they were supposed to do, so he doesn’t understand. “Good?”  
   
“Yeah. It is. It is good.” Calum nods, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a rumpled sheet of paper, unfolding it as he talks. “It’s fuckin’ amazing, actually. It’s one of the best I’ve ever done with Michael.”  
   
“Okay. What’s the face for, then?”  
   
“Are, um. Are the two of you … okay?”  
   
“Yes?” Luke’s frown deepens. “Cal, what?”  
   
“You should read this.” Calum holds the paper out for Luke to take. Luke stares at it. Suddenly he doesn’t want to know at all.  
   
“Is it the song?”  
   
“Just read it, okay? You need to.”  
   
Luke’s heart races, the steady beat of it speeding up in his chest as his mind runs wild and conjures all kinds of horrible things that could be waiting in the lyrics Michael wrote. Maybe he’s breaking up with Luke. Maybe he thought it would be less painful to do it in a song. He’s wrong, it would be way, way worse. Or maybe it would be the same. Luke can’t imagine anything worse than losing Michael, so maybe it wouldn’t matter if he spoke it or drew it in the sand on the beach with a stick or rented a sky-writer to spell it in the clouds. Maybe it would hurt just as much regardless.  
   
He reaches out a slightly shaky hand and takes the paper, trying and failing to keep it from buzzing in his twitchy fingers. Luke feels nauseous, nerves churning in his stomach, as he holds the page close enough to read. What he finds is not what he was expecting, but that isn’t a good thing. It’s  _stunning_ , in the worst possible way. Words jump out at him, in Michael’s messy scrawl. Demons, mistakes, poison,  _broken_. Luke knows Michael. He knows Michael better than anyone. He knows Michael has insecurities. It’s one of the things that makes him so beautiful. But this is so beyond anything that’s ever been made of it. The words are so real, so vulnerable, like Michael split himself open and spilled his guts onto the page for anyone to read. And they’re about more than just Michael. They’re about Luke too. About not being good enough. It makes Luke feel like he’s just been sliced open too.  
   
“Fuck,” he mumbles, gripping the page so tight it wrinkles further, and then turns and stumbles back in the direction of the house. He feels drunk; dangerous. Like he wants to run to Michael and away from him at the same time, gravity pulling him in different directions. The part that wants Michael wins, like it always does, and draws Luke to him like a magnet.  
   
“Luke, don’t,” Calum calls after him, but Luke is already gone. Nothing else matters, he needs to get back to Michael. He’s back in the kitchen, his heart thumping up into his throat, barging back in on Michael and Ashton. They’re laughing now, and Luke ruins it without even thinking.  
   
“What is this?” he asks, his voice scratchy for no reason other than immeasurable sadness clawing at his insides, fighting to get out.  
   
They both look up. Luke’s only looking at Michael.  
   
“I don’t know, what is it?”  
   
Luke holds it up so Michael can see – Michael squints to make it out from across the room, and then his eyes go wide when he realizes. “You – fuck, Cal! You showed him? It isn’t even done!”  
   
Calum appears behind Luke but stays silent and makes no attempt to defend himself.  
   
“Michael. What is this?” Luke repeats.  
   
Michael rolls his eyes. “It’s just a song. Chill.”  
   
“ _Is_  it?” Luke cries incredulously. Michael’s acting like it’s a song about a nameless, faceless, imaginary hot girl, like hundreds they’ve written before. Like it isn’t his greatest fears and insecurities patterned out in words; his darkest secrets molded into black poetry.  
   
“The fuck is going on?” Ashton demands. “Is it bad or something?”  
   
“No,” Calum says, quiet and low and still serious. “It’s one of the best we’ve ever done. Maybe  _the_  best.”  
   
“So what’s the problem?”  
   
Luke consults the handwritten page and riddles off a few choice lines, his voice cracking, the pain of emotions that aren’t even his sharp like knives in his throat. “I’m holding on for dear life, there’s no way that we could rewind … Now that I’m broken, and now that you know it …The blood in my veins is made up of mistakes.”  
   
“Whoa,” Ashton breathes, his hazel eyes widening.  
   
“It’s called  _Jet Black Heart_ ,” Luke continues. He wants to cry, knowing the title is how Michael sees himself. Michael has the biggest heart of anyone Luke knows. It’s so wide open, so much room to love everything that crosses his path. It’s why he gets hurt so easily. It’s why Luke had to learn to be careful with him. “‘Cause I’ve got a jet black heart, and there’s a hurricane underneath it trying to keep us apart.”  
   
“How much of that did you write?” Ashton asks, the question directed at Calum.  
   
“Almost none,” Calum answers. “A bit of the melody. We did the chord progression together. The words are all Michael.”  
   
“It’s a  _song_ ,” Michael insists, looking at his bandmates like they’ve all lost their minds. Or, at least, trying to. It isn’t convincing. “How many songs have we written that aren’t about something real? No one looked so perfect standing there in our American Apparel underwear. They’re just lyrics.”  
   
“Is this about us?” Luke asks. He already knows it is. They all do. He just needs Michael to say it.  
   
“Oh, would you just …” Michael sighs. He turns away from them and rubs his hands over his face.  
   
“Michael!” Luke insists.  
   
“We should go,” Ashton says. He steps around Luke and nudges at Calum. “C’mon. They need space.”  
   
“Michael, I’m sorry,” Calum offers, sounding like he means it. Like he’s worried Michael is mad at him. “I thought he needed to know, I thought …”  
   
Whatever he thought, they don’t find out. He lets the sentence die in his throat, and lets Ashton lead him away. Luke doesn’t know where they go. He doesn’t care. Michael is all that matters anymore.  
   
For a long time, Michael doesn’t say anything. Luke waits, not out of patience but a lack of knowing the right way to begin. Then Michael looks at him, with tired eyes, and repeats, “It’s just a song.”  
   
Luke shakes his head. He still can’t find words, so he puts the page down on the kitchen island and walks over, taking Michael by the hands and pulling him into a hug.  
   
“Luke,” Michael mutters, stiff in his arms. Struggling to stay strong, to hide from Luke.  
   
He’s been going through things, lately. Luke knew it was happening, even though Michael wouldn’t talk about it. It isn’t the first time. For all Michael’s smiles and bad jokes and over-the-top personality, there’s always been shadows inside him. Sometimes they take over. Luke’s been around, when it’s happened before. Eventually, Michael is okay. But it’s never the last time, either. It always comes back. Even still – “You’re perfect to me,” he whispers.  
   
Michael makes a small unhappy noise, and his arms circle around Luke’s waist. He goes silent again, for a longer stretch. He breathes heavily, and then something warm and wet soaks through the sleeve of Luke’s t-shirt and he grips Michael tighter.  
   
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “They’re amazing lyrics, Mikey. It’s gonna be such a good song.”  
   
“They’re not our style,” Michael argues, sad and dejected, his edges cracked. Luke aches to patch him up, but he doesn’t quite know how. “Too emo. It’s stupid, we don’t have to record it.”  
   
“Yes we do,” Luke murmurs. He cups Michael’s cheek in his hand, makes Michael look at him. The wetness under Michael’s eyes Luke brushes away with his thumbs, kissing his lips. “I can’t wait to hear the melody. Can’t wait to hear you sing it.”  
   
“You should sing it. You and Cal.”  
   
Luke shakes his head. “No way. We’ll do some. But this is your song.”  
   
Michael shrugs and looks down at the inch of space between them. “Your voices are better.”  
   
“Shut up, no they aren’t.” It breaks Luke’s heart to know Michael believes that’s the truth. He trails his fingers through Michael’s hair, combing it back lovingly. “Your voice is beautiful. Everyone thinks so but you.”  
   
Another shrug is all Luke gets. The only course of action he can come up with is to get Michael out of here, away from common spaces where their friends might turn back up, and to a place where he feels safer. Taking Michael’s hand, threading their fingers together, Luke leads him up the stairs into his own bedroom. He closes the door behind them and locks it, and Michael lets himself be corralled, near-lifeless, into Luke’s bed. Luke wraps his arms back around Michael and he goes so easy, curling against Luke’s chest, his face pushed into Luke’s neck. His tears are damp and cool against Luke’s skin. Luke’s eyes sting, too. He’s never been any good at this. When Michael hurts, Luke dies inside.  
   
“Talk to me,” he requests gently. “I never want you to keep all this stuff inside. You can always, always tell me.”  
   
“Nothin’ to tell.”  
   
“Michael. Please?” Luke will beg if he has to. He doesn’t care. His own pride is so meaningless.  
   
“I don’t …” Michael sighs, and then when he speaks again, his voice is soft and guarded, voicing a secret he’s kept for maybe longer than Luke’s even known him. “What if there’s something wrong with me?”  
   
“There isn’t,” Luke promises.  
   
“You don’t know that,” Michael argues tearfully. “There’s something dark in me, Luke. Something you can’t fix.”  
   
“Why do we need to fix it?” Luke asks. “Why can’t I just love you, exactly the way you are?”  
   
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”  
   
“Too late. I already do.”  
   
Michael shakes his head, his forehead rubbing under Luke’s jaw.  
   
“Oh, God,” Luke breathes, something just now occurring to him that he should have noticed right away. It clicks into place with a sickening internal crunch.  
   
“What?”  
   
“ _Maybe there’s nothing after midnight that could make you stay_ ,” Luke quotes. “No,  _Michael_. How could you even think that?”  
   
Michael doesn’t answer but he sniffs, and Luke knows he’s right.  
   
“Throwing rocks at your window at midnight. The song that’s about us. You … you think the part where we fell in love is over, now? That there’s nothing else to make me stay? That I’ll leave because you get sad sometimes?”  
   
“They’re just lyrics,” Michael mumbles, trying once more. It doesn’t work this time any better than before.  
   
“Look at me,” Luke pleads. When Michael does, he slides their lips together, harder than he intends and desperate. “It’s you and me. Just like it’s always been. There isn’t anything else. Have all the darkness inside that you want, I’m not leaving. I love you, I love your darkness. I love your smile and your enormous heart and everything.  _Everything_ , Michael. I love it all.”  
   
“That’s not … it’s me.”  
   
“What’s you?”  
   
“This thing, whatever it is that’s in me. Whatever’s wrong with me. It’s like this force, that wants to destroy everything. Like a voice that whispers in my head, all the things that suck about me, all the reasons you could do so much better.”  
   
“I couldn’t,” Luke insists. His voice breaks over how much he means it. He wishes he could pull Michael in closer, but there isn’t more than a breath of space between them left.  
   
“I’m trying, Luke. You gotta know that, okay? That’s what the song is about. I don’t think you’re gonna leave. It’s about me. I’m terrified  _I’m_  gonna leave. I’m so fucking scared one day the voice is gonna win, it’s gonna convince me that I don’t deserve you. But I’m trying. I’m fighting it, as hard as I fucking can. That’s the song. I wrote it to tell you I’m trying.”  
   
Luke nods, tears welling in his own eyes and spilling down his cheeks. “I’m not gonna let you cut and run. After everything we’ve been through? You’re beyond stuck with me, Clifford.”  
   
“Don’t give up on me, okay?” Michael implores in a broken whisper.  
   
“Never,” Luke promises. He wipes fresh tears off Michael’s face, the sadness in his green eyes so unbearable Luke needs to try to kiss it away, even if it won’t work.  
   
“I love you,” Michael’s voice says, less than a wisp of air but Luke hears it. Or maybe he feels it.  
   
“I love you so much,” he answers, already planning in his head how he’s going to spend the rest of his life proving it to Michael, every day if he needs to, until Michael believes he deserves it. It’s okay. Luke committed his life to the man in his arms years ago, the day Michael approached him after music class and mentioned that Luke was still a tool but was pretty decent on his acoustic guitar and that they should play together sometime. Every minute since, as long as Michael is close to him, Luke’s never needed anything else.


	2. Video

They film Michael’s solo bit last, because everyone knows it’s going to be tough. Michael hates being coddled but this song means so much to him, it’s his heart on display for the whole world to consume, and Luke knows it won’t be easy on him. He’s so happy they’re using it as a single. It might be the most important song they’ve ever done, and it’s everything to Michael. Of all the videos they’ve ever shot, this one takes the least amount of time because they aren’t in it all that much. The fan videos they have are so great. Luke is just really excited, but worried underneath.  
   
His own solo parts are second-to-last, and it’s so nerve-wracking with everyone watching him, but when he gets to see the playback Luke is really happy with how they turned out. He looks really sad, and that’s what he was going for. When they do Michael’s, they clear out everyone who isn’t absolutely necessary, but Luke stays. So do Calum and Ashton. Michael didn’t say so, but Luke thinks he needs them there. Michael is so good. He’s captivating to watch, his red hair so bright and beautiful against the blue lighting in the room and his pale skin. He gets so into it, singing loudly and passionately and staring into the camera with this devastated look on his face. It’s hard for Luke to even watch, but he can’t look away. Everything Michael was feeling when he wrote the song comes back to the surface, Luke can see it. So many times, he wants to yell at them to stop, that it’s too much, that Michael shouldn’t have to go through this. But every time someone asks if Michael is okay to keep going, he says he is and demands another take. He’s a perfectionist, even when it hurts him to be one.  
   
When Michael starts crying, Luke hears himself whimper, and Calum’s arm goes around his shoulders. They only do a couple of takes with tears falling slowly down Michael’s cheeks, and then their director Tom calls the final cut, and Luke breathes a sigh of relief. Everyone applauds, and Michael sniffs and wipes at his face and smiles weakly, trying to play it off like he isn’t about to break down.  
   
“Go,” Calum says to Luke, just as Ashton asks, “Can we have a minute?” of everyone else in the hotel room.  
   
There is a general rumble of agreement, and people filter out one by one until it’s just the four of them.  
   
“Those shots are either gonna be amazing or pathetic,” Michael mumbles, turning it into a self-deprecating joke, still sitting on the bed with the city lights behind him through the big window.  
   
Luke walks toward him and sits down, reaching out and brushing Michael’s hair off his forehead with his thumb. “You were so good,” he says softly. “It looked incredible.”  
   
Michael sniffs. “Yeah?”  
   
Luke smiles at him and nods. He gets a little closer and pulls Michael into a hug. “So good, baby,” he whispers, so only Michael can hear him.  
   
“You’re gonna have the whole world in tears.” Ashton sits on Michael’s other side and hugs him too, and Calum climbs onto the bed behind them and sort of drapes himself over the pile.  
   
Michael laughs, wet from his tears. “Band hug.”  
   
“We don’t band hug enough,” Calum says.  
   
“We do it every single day,” Ashton argues.  
   
“Well we should do it  _three_  times a day,” Calum declares.  
   
“Yes we should,” Luke agrees. Just to Michael, he asks, “You okay?”  
   
“Yeah,” Michael says, but he isn’t. Luke can hear it in his voice. He’ll deal with it later. Michael doesn’t want to make a big deal of it in front of everyone, and Luke understands that. He doesn’t know how much longer they’ll have to stay here, but suddenly he wants to be back home right now.  
   
*           *           *  
   
They end up having to stick around the shoot for longer than Luke would like, because it’s tradition to order pizza for the whole crew and watch some of the footage and celebrate a little. It’s fun, it’s always fun, but it’s the middle of the night and Luke is tired enough from his own scenes and the band scene. On top of it all, Michael looks exhausted and his smiles look forced and Luke just wants to get him back to their rented house so they can crawl into bed together and maybe cry themselves to sleep. It doesn’t sound like a good thing but sometimes Michael needs that. He works so hard to hide the dark parts of himself, to always be upbeat and laughing and keeping everyone around him smiling; sometimes he just needs to let go of all that and crumble a little. Luke’s arms is the only place Michael’s ever felt safe enough to let himself be vulnerable. It’s been that way for years.  
   
“This one is gonna be so good,” Ashton says, around a wide yawn, as Dave drives them home. “Once it’s all cut together with us and the fans and stuff.”  
   
“It’s gonna be sad.” Calum slouches down a little in the seat, tipping his head back against the rest and closing his eyes. “But in a good way.”  
   
“In like a  _hopeful_  way,” Ashton replies. “Because it’s like … we’re all fucked up but we’re in it together.”  
   
“ _But we’re alright, though_ ,” Calum sings softly.  
   
Ashton laughs, and they both fall into the chorus of  _She’s Kinda Hot_  in quiet, goofy voices.  
   
Luke looks over at Michael. They’re in the back, the two of them; Calum and Ashton in the middle seat. Michael is bathed in the soft blue light from the passing streetlamps, and he’s so beautiful it makes Luke ache to touch him. He does, reaching over and taking Michael’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.  
   
“Are you okay?” he asks, again.  
   
Michael nods. He wraps both his hands around Luke’s, and smiles at him. He looks tired, and a bit sad, but not like he’s about to burst into tears. “I love you,” he whispers.  
   
Luke shifts in closer to him, wrapping his arm over Michael’s shoulders so Michael leans against him. He kisses Michael’s forehead, and murmurs into his skin, “Love you back. So much.”  
   
Michael goes right upstairs when they get home, and Luke waves at Calum and Ashton and follows him. They both look like they know what’s going on. Luke loves that about his friends. He and Michael have never had to explain their thing to the other half of their band. They’ve never really had to talk about it, in all the time it’s existed since three of them were in school together. Ash and Cal have always just understood.  
   
Michael is already in Luke’s bed by the time Luke catches up to him. It looks like he just fell into it, didn’t even bother to undress or fix the messy blankets or turn the light off. Luke sighs. It’s alright. He likes taking care of Michael. He likes when Michael lets him. He shuts off the light and closes the door behind himself, pulling until the latch clicks. He undoes and pushes off his jeans, kicking at them where they pool around his ankles and stepping away from them. Then he goes to Michael and tugs at the ankle of his jeans.  
   
“C’mon,” he says softly.  
   
Without a word, Michael turns over. He gets the button undone and the zipper down but then his hands fall away and his eyes fall closed, letting Luke do the rest. Luke leans over him and hooks his fingers under the waistband of the black denim; Michael lifts his hips and Luke pulls the material down his legs and off, discarding them on the floor. He tries to straighten out the blankets but he can’t really do it with Michael half on top of them, so instead of making Michael get up – he’s so tired – Luke goes across the hall to Michael’s bedroom and hauls the comforter off of his bed to bring back. He drapes it over Michael and then crawls in beside him.  
   
Michael rolls into Luke, and Luke tucks his arms around Michael’s body and hugs him. Michael hugs him back, making himself small in Luke’s arms, pushing his cold nose up against Luke’s throat.  
   
For the third time, Luke asks, “You okay?”  
   
“Yeah,” Michael breathes. He still isn’t, though, and this time he’s supposed to say as much.  
   
“Michael.”  
   
“It just … it all suddenly came back.” He sounds broken. “I kinda figured it would, but … I still wasn’t ready for it.”  
   
“You’re so brave,” Luke tells him.  
   
Michael scoffs.  
   
“No, I mean it.” Luke kisses his forehead, sliding his fingers through Michael’s soft hair and stroking it. “You put everything out there. You told people you saw a therapist. You write all these amazing lyrics that just let everything that’s inside you hang out for anyone to see. You gave everything you have to this song, and the video, and it’s gonna be so amazing, Mikey. Because of you.”  
   
“People are gonna make fun of me,” Michael mumbles.  
   
“A few assholes, maybe. Not our fans. They love you so much. They’re gonna love you even more for this. You’re showing them that you go through hard times too, just like they do, and that it’s okay to not be okay.”  
   
Michael nods. “That’s what we’re trying to do, right?” he asks, like he needs the reassurance. “With the New Broken Scene. Bring people together who have been though shit, but letting them know it’ll be okay in the end.”  
   
“That’s what  _Carry On_  was for,” Luke reminds him.  
   
“Can you sing it to me?” Michael whispers.  
   
Luke does, in a quiet, gravelly voice that cracks a few times because he’s trying to keep it together, but Michael just nuzzles into him and hides in his arms and Luke hopes it helps.  
   
“ _Moving on, survive the innocence_ ,” he sings, his lips touching Michael’s forehead. “ _It won’t be long, you know it’s gonna get better._ ”  
   
“I’m still trying,” Michael says. His voice shakes. “Like the song says. I’m still not okay but I’m trying. For you. And for me, too.”  
   
Luke cups Michael’s cheek in his hand and tilts his face up so he can brush their lips together. “Good. I love you so much. Even if you go dark sometimes.”  
   
“You promise?”  
   
“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)


End file.
